The Worst Joke
by N.E.Desperado
Summary: DH SPOILERS. George's POV So he was in the forbidden forest trying to deny the existence of a fact that he knew he’d have to face, have to live with even if he felt like dying.


George was taking a walk. His long strides, with every muffled footstep through the undergrowth, took him farther away from his twin, who was lying peacefully in a room half a mile away with his eyes closed and a faint smile on his face.

Those back at the castle were probably wondering why he had left, after the battle had ended. Why he had gotten up from his kneeling position, and walked out of the castle.

It was because he couldn't breathe, but that wasn't all. He couldn't think, couldn't accept that his twin was lying with the rest of the victims. He felt like there was a weight on his chest that just wouldn't budge. He kept thinking _Wake up, WAKE __**UP**__ FRED, because I know you must be joking. _And it was the worst joke he'd ever played, and George thought it must be revenge for that really bad ear pun he'd made those months ago.

So he was in the forbidden forest (in a clearing that looked completely war-torn), trying to deny the existence of a fact that he knew he'd have to face, have to live with (even if he felt like dying). And all at once he had fallen to his knees, sobbing, unable to breathe for a different reason for now his entire body was wracked with grief and all he could think was that Fred was _gone, gone and he'd left George completely alone._ And he felt a bit mad because that was a really unfair thing for Fred to do, but that was fleeting because the crushing grief returned almost immediately after, and now it was tinged horribly with guilt. Guilt, for being the one to survive, guilt for not being there because he could have _done_ something. And a little part of his mind that was still coherently thinking reminded him he'd been dueling a different Death Eater on the other side of the castle, but he was still pretty sure that this was _all his fault_.

His hands clenched then angrily (anger at himself, anger that Fred had been the one to die, anger he was left behind), ripping up clumps of grass and dirt. After a moment, he realized that something cold was pressing into his hand, and momentarily distracted by this new realization he relaxed his left hand to see a ring. The stone setting was cracked, but George could see it had been some kind of geometric pattern, with a triangle, circle, and a straight line through the middle. He turned it over to see if there were any engravings that would hint at the owner, and then turned it back. The stone, upon further examining, turned out to be really quite ugly, and George could see why the owner would have dropped it. He flipped it over one last time to check for any markings, and suddenly he could tell he wasn't alone. This was not because of any audible noise, but because he could see a pair of trainers connected to someone's legs a foot away. He looked up.

Fred grinned at him.

George fainted.

A few minutes later when he came to, Fred was still there.

"Morning!" he announced cheerily.

Before he tried to speak, George scrutinized him carefully. He didn't look like a ghost, but he could tell that he wasn't really alive. He decided to check just in case.

"You a ghost?"

"Y'know, I'm not really sure. There I was, talking to Sirius about how brilliant that last battle was because Harry finally put his phenomenal yelling skills to _good_ use, and I started fading away. Sirius told me not to worry, that it'd happened to him a few hours ago, and suddenly I was here and you were fainting like someone'd put your corset too tight."

George ignored the joke. "But are you alive?" he asked, for that was the really important bit.

Fred examined his hand "I don't think so. I'm just giving Death a rain check for a bit."

George felt the aching sadness return. "Merlin's pants, Fred. Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"_Die_… Fred, you _died_. I don't even know how you're here, and I'm not sure how long you can stay. And after you leave you'll be _gone_, Fred, and I don't-"

_You're my other half, Fred. How can I live with half of me gone? I don't-…I don't know what's going to happen._

Fred knew what he'd left unsaid. His face turned from questioning to determined.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen, mate. You're going to run the joke shop. You're going to develop pants that turn invisible so the poor chap that's wearing them will unwillingly show off his bloomers to the general public. They'll be a big hit, I guarantee it. You'll go to Ginny's wedding, and Ron's, and you'll probably get married yourself, even though everyone knows I was the better looking one. You're going to be sad for an awfully long time because I was a great bloke and I bet everyone will miss me loads. But most importantly, you're going to move on, because I swear to Merlin if you spend the rest of your life moping because I'm gone, I'll set all of the Blast-ended Screwts in the beyond on you when you get there."

George was too shocked to speak, so he gaped wordlessly. Fred grinned.

"Now, I've got to go. This world's kind of stuffy, and Harry's dad promised he'd tell me how they changed the ceiling of the Great Hall in their sixth year. I think the only reason I'm here is because of that hideous ring." he said, pointing to the accessory in question. "You let that go, and I get to disappear. You know as well as I do that I'm not supposed to be here, mate."

George sighed. "So I won't be seeing you again then?"

"If you call me back again I'll be madder than Filch was when we threw dungbombs at Mrs. Norris."

George smiled sadly. He hesitated, then said: "Well, goodbye, then."

"See you later," said Fred softly, his sad eyes looking straight into his brother's, because he knew he wouldn't see them for a long, long time.

George dropped the ring.

Fred smiled slightly, and disappeared.

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A few days later, George stood in a cemetery with the rest of his family and friends watching the coffin of his brother and best friend lower slowly into the ground. Almost everyone was crying, and a trumpeting sound followed by a loud and mournful wail signaled that Hagrid had broken down as well.

_See you later…_

A lone tear tracked its solitary way down his cheek, and though his chest ached with a loss he wasn't close to accepting, George's thoughts turned to the joke shop, and weddings, and invisible pants.


End file.
